


Let Your Heart Be Light

by gemjam



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2016-01-04
Packaged: 2018-05-07 17:18:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5464619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gemjam/pseuds/gemjam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Where The Heart Is</i> 'verse - two years later.</p><p>Christmas is all about traditions, and sometimes old have to be swapped for new.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mark

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Where The Heart Is](https://archiveofourown.org/works/887212) by [gemjam](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gemjam/pseuds/gemjam). 



> Have yourself a merry little Christmas  
> Let your heart be light  
> Next year all our troubles will be out of sight  
> Have yourself a merry little Christmas  
> Make the yuletide gay  
> Next year all our troubles will be miles away
> 
> Once again as in olden days  
> Happy golden days of yore  
> Faithful friends who are near to us  
> Will be dear to us once more
> 
> Someday soon we all will be together  
> If the fates allow  
> Until then we'll have to muddle through somehow  
> So yourself a merry little Christmas now

Mark carries the box into the house, shooing the dogs away who think it might be something for them. He places it on the kitchen table as he hears Fernando's footsteps on the stairs, picking up one of the decorations and looking it over.

"Mark," Fernando calls from the next room.

"Yeah, mate?" Mark calls back.

"Why is there a tree in our house?" Fernando asks, glancing over his shoulder at it as he comes into the kitchen.

"Because it's Christmas," Mark responds, holding up a little Santa.

"Is too early," Fernando complains. "Take it back outside."

"It's the 6th," Mark says. "That's not early."

"I have told you," Fernando says, his voice a frustrated whine that makes Mark want to roll his eyes. "You have to wait for the lottery, the 22nd. Then is Christmas. This cannot go up yet."

"Mate, I told you, the only thing getting _el gordo_ this Christmas is me," Mark says, patting his stomach. Fernando folds his arms over his chest, looking incredibly unamused. Mark tosses the Santa back into the box, picking it up. "Shouldn't you be doing a little less worrying about gambling and a little more worrying about your student loans?" he asks, kissing Fernando on the top of his head as he moves past him into the living room, the bare tree standing starkly in the corner.

"My mother buys the ticket for me," Fernando says, following after him. "Is tradition." He throws himself down on the sofa.

"Don't you even want to see what I got?" Mark asks.

He's never had a Christmas tree before, not one of his own. They always had a huge one at home, beautifully decorated in colour co-ordinated baubles and tinsel, as well as some decorations Mark and Sebastian made at school that would appear from a special box where Christian stored them every year.

It used to be a real tree when they were little, but the needles would drop all over, especially when Mark and Sebastian would knock into it, chasing each other around the house, the dogs usually in tow. Adrian bought a fake one after that, prickly to the touch, and Mark hated it. He always liked the idea of something from the outdoors brought inside.

He missed shopping for the tree, the four of them climbing into the car and going off to the garden centre together. They'd have to walk through all the lights first, a grotto of flashing colours that Mark and Sebastian always fought to stop and look at. When they could finally be dragged away they'd head outside, Mark holding onto one of their dads' hands, Sebastian to the other. They always had to circle around at least twice before they could finally agree on which tree they got, mostly because Mark refused to agree with whichever one Sebastian claimed was best, regardless of how right he might be.

Mark had never bothered to buy a tree of his own after moving out. He had a string of lights that he put across the mantelpiece, multi-coloured in contrast to the plain white Christian always insisted upon for their own home, and he always picked up a fresh wreath for the door, but he didn't celebrate Christmas here, he went back home for Christmas day, and Fernando was always gone long before that, so there never seemed much point dressing the place up.

This year was different. This year the farm was the place he and Fernando were both calling home for the first time and they were spending Christmas together, just the two of them. That meant it was time for a tree and decorations and pulling out all the stops. He wanted to make it special, build a new tradition just for them.

That meant that the tree had to be real and the lights had to be colourful and sparkly and the decorations weren't going to match. He'd picked them up at the farmer's market today, different materials, different themes, and he liked the idea of adding to them over the years, making a patchwork across their tree every Christmas that told a story, just like the ornaments he and Sebastian had made.

"Aren't you even going to look?" Mark asks, putting on his sweetest voice as he sits on the floor by the tree with his box, looking over at Fernando who was sprawled out on the sofa, something Mark would usually take full advantage of. Instead he held up a little felt Santa. "Linda made these."

"I don't care," Fernando says defiantly.

"Be nice to Linda," Mark tells him.

"Linda's not here," Fernando responds. "Linda doesn't give a fuck."

Mark laughs, throwing the Santa at Fernando. "When you see her you're going to tell her they're lovely."

"Yes," Fernando says with resignation as he sits up, examining the small figure. "I am."

"You going to help then?" Mark asks, unpacking his box.

"I tell you, is too early," Fernando states again. "You do not listen to me. Is not how it is done in Spain."

"Go to fucking Spain then," Mark tells him, not looking up from what he's doing. The felt Santa connects with his head and Fernando storms out of the room.

Mark sighs, his body sagging. He probably should have waited until Fernando was with him to get the decorations, this was supposed to be _their_ first Christmas, not just Mark's. He just couldn't resist when he saw all the stalls though, the kid in him made him want one of everything and the best part of being an adult is being able to indulge that inner kid.

He gets to his feet, following Fernando through to the kitchen who's trying to fill the kettle up while the dogs fuss around him. He slams the kettle onto the stand.

"Train your fucking dogs," he grits out, not turning around.

Mark clicks his fingers to get their attention, opening the utility door and ushering them in to their beds. He turns back to Fernando, perching on the edge of the table while Fernando leans against the counter, watching the kettle boil.

"I'm sorry," Mark offers. Fernando doesn't say anything. "You know, Jenson used to put that stupid little tree up in the student house on December 1st every year and you never said anything."

"Was not my tree," Fernando responds.

Mark nods. Of course. And now this one isn't his either.

The kettle clicks off and Fernando grabs two mugs, just like he always does, making one for Mark without having to ask. Mark pulls his phone from his pocket moving over to him.

"I can't wait until the 22nd, mate," he says, bringing up his calendar. "Meet me halfway?" Fernando looks up to see him counting off the days. "14th?" he suggests.

Fernando nods, looking calmer. "Is fair. 14th is okay with me."

Mark smiles, feeling suddenly lighter. He kisses Fernando on the head, reaching for his coffee. "Just please don't make me drag it back outside again, fucking thing nearly killed me."

"Okay," Fernando agrees, smiling at him.

Mark shoves the box in the corner of the room by the tree and they ignore it for the next few days. It's not like he has much time to think about Christmas in the great scheme of things. The days are shorter in winter and he doesn't have to worry about the vegetable patch but the animals need extra care and he feels like he's out there with them all day, feeding them and making sure the water hasn't frozen and mucking out the shelters and dealing with the mud and checking their health.

The early evenings should offer him some respite but he spends them hunched over the laptop, budgeting and checking that all the numbers add up and working out what they need to do to break even, what they can afford to spend to keep things moving into next year. He obsesses over the columns because he feels like if one number doesn't add up right it's all going to crumble from beneath him.

It's incredibly stressful, nothing like the tranquil life he imagined himself living when he was a teenager, just him and the animals and the great outdoors, doing what he loved with no one to boss him around. He tells himself it's a work in progress, he's only just coming up to the end of year two, it will get easier than this. It has to get easier than this.

"The tree is depressing," Fernando says.

Mark looks up from his spreadsheet. "Huh?"

"The tree," Fernando says, gesturing to the corner of the room. "It looks so sad. You can't have an empty tree dying in the corner of your room for no reason."

Mark checks the date on his computer. "Five more days then we'll make it pretty."

"I think we should just do it now," Fernando says.

Mark shakes his head. "Please not now, I'm so fucking tired."

"Was you who wanted to put it up," Fernando points out.

"On Sunday I wanted to put it up," Mark says. "When I'd been at the farmer's market, selling eggs and meat and joking with the regulars and revelling in the Christmas spirit. Not now when I've been shovelling shit all day and I can't work out if we're going bankrupt or not."

"Give it here," Fernando says, reaching for the laptop.

"It's fine," Mark dismisses. "We'll be fine."

"Give it," Fernando insists.

Mark relents, sliding the laptop over to him, only for Fernando to immediately close it, placing it on the ground.

"Oh, great," Mark says sarcastically. "I'll remind you of this when the bank forecloses."

Fernando pats his lap. "Lie down."

With a sigh Mark moves over, resting his head back on Fernando's lap, his legs hanging over the arm of the sofa. He closes his eyes as Fernando's fingers slide into his hair, massaging the stress away from his temples.

"Is _our_ farm now," he says. "You do not have to do it alone."

"Yeah," Mark agrees. "We can be homeless together."

"We will not be homeless," Fernando insists.

Mark sighs. "Half the time I don't feel like this place is mine anyway. I owe money to everyone, the bank, the student loans company, my parents."

"Is hard," Fernando agrees. "Being grown ups."

"Fuck," Mark says, opening his eyes to look up at him. "Are we grown ups?"

Fernando smiles at him. "I am afraid so."

"When did that happen?" Mark asks.

"I don't know," Fernando says. "All of a sudden I think."

"Yeah," Mark agrees. He shakes his head. "That's not what I signed up for. I just wanted some fucking sheep."

Fernando brushes Mark's hair back and leans down to place a kiss on his lips. "Let's go to bed."

"Okay," Mark agrees, sitting up.

"We will look at it together, when you are calmer, when you have had some proper rest," Fernando tells him.

"Grown up," Mark taunts, offering his hands out to pull Fernando to his feet.

"Takes one to know one," Fernando responds.

The next evening they sit down properly at the kitchen table and go over the numbers. It's not that bad, their heads are still above water, but Mark hates that he has to think about it constantly, that he can't just relax into his work. He had all these ideas about how his life was going to be but once again it all gets drowned in responsibility.

They have an early night, but not the kind they used to have when they were dating and Fernando would make the trip over to stay with Mark. They'd barely be able to keep their hands off each other, everything a novelty, every moment savoured. Fernando is here 24/7 now and Mark knows that strictly speaking they're still dating but they don't actually go anywhere, don't even really have coupley nights in anymore, they just work and worry about money and go to bed exhausted. Being able to have each other whenever they want only seems to make them put if off.

As they climb into bed Mark shifts over to Fernando, sliding an arm around him from behind and presses against his back. It's almost like it's his duty; one of them has to make an effort. He kisses Fernando's neck, nuzzling the hair at the base of his spine. Fernando shifts against him.

"Am tired," he says.

Mark's relief is perhaps a little too immediate as he rolls away from him. "Me too."

Fernando turns around to face him. "Has been a while, huh?"

"We've been busy," Mark responds. "Doesn't mean anything."

"No," Fernando agrees, but he's frowning in that way that Mark knows means he's concerned. "Do you think we should try anyway?"

"We're not going to fuck just for the sake of it," Mark dismisses. "We're fine. We're fine, aren't we?"

"Of course," Fernando agrees, moving over to snuggle up against him. "We will get in a better routine. Will not be forever."

"Right," Mark agrees, holding Fernando against him. "It's been a busy few months. We're adjusting."

"Yes," Fernando states. "Is all new to me, the farm, I am still learning."

"I think we're both learning," Mark says. The one thing he always thought he could count on suddenly feels like something else entirely.

The next day, when Fernando goes into the village, Mark phones Christian. He sits upstairs on the windowsill amongst all the cushions that used to make up his reading nook, feeling suddenly nostalgic for home. He couldn't wait to get out of there and forge his own path, but he feels as hopeless as a kid again and he wants someone to make it better for him.

"Mark," Christian greets cheerily, reminding Mark that he really doesn't phone home as much as he should. He feel instantly guilty.

"Hey," he responds.

"What's going on?" Christian asks.

Mark stares out at the window at the sheep grazing in the field. "How do you do it?"

"Do what?" Christian asks.

"The working together and the living together and the trying to be a couple and not just people who own a business," Mark says. "How are you supposed to balance all that?"

"It's not easy," Christian tells him. "You have to try not to let one define the other. You have to make time for yourselves."

"I think I know how you felt now," Mark says. "That summer when I was back home, when you were having your existential crisis."

"I wasn't having an existential crisis," Christian dismisses.

"I think I might be," Mark says, leaning his head against the window. "I used to look forward to Fernando coming to visit, I used to count down the days until I was seeing him again, and when he was here it was like we were in our own little world, we didn't care about anything but each other. Now it's all responsibilities and getting the chores done and looking at costs and budgets and overheads. It's never just us. I feel like we're getting lost in it all."

"New businesses are hard," Christian says. "New relationships are hard. Both together is a real challenge."

"We've been together two years," Mark dismisses.

"And you've just entered a new phase," Christian states. "Living together is very different from weekends together. You have to learn all about compromise and consideration and sometimes it gets a bit much and you want to take a step back but you've got the business to think about so you have to work together. It can feel like a never ending cycle."

"We nag at each other all the time," Mark admits. "We wind each other up."

"That's understandable," Christian says. "Your father and I were like that. Sometimes we're still like that. When we started the business we were new parents, we had three roles to juggle, that was a challenge."

"Yeah," Mark agrees. "I've basically been an inconvenience my whole life, haven't I?"

"I know that you're joking but if you were here right now I'd smack you around the head," Christian tells him.

Mark laughs. "I love you too."

"Listen, take some time out for just the two of you," Christian tells him. "Cook dinner for him or take him out somewhere. No shop talk, just enjoy each other's company. It's going to take effort. The early bit, where everything's new and exciting and you're learning all about each other, that's easy. This is the part where you find out if you're going to make it. Some of that's down to simply whether you're willing to fight for it."

Mark takes a deep breath, letting it out as a sigh. "You just think that if you're in love it will all work out."

"It always takes work," Christian tells him. "Always. Even twenty five years on. You have to want it enough. You have to be there for each other. Make time."

"It's still hard?" Mark asks. "You and Adrian?"

"Not hard," Christian says. "But you can't ever take it for granted."

Mark nods. "I think he feels homesick."

"So make him feel at home," Christian tells him.

"Yeah," Mark agrees. He looks at the darkening sky and knows he needs to get started on the barn if he wants to get the sheep in by nightfall. "I have to go. But thank you. I knew you'd get it. I don't think I ever realised how hard you guys worked. At everything."

"Growing up is realising your parents are human too," Christian says.

"You're still my hero," Mark tells him. "Talk to you later."

As he's mucking out the barn and laying out fresh hay the idea starts to form in his head. He abandons the last couple of bails and heads inside, his laptop still on the kitchen table where he left it last night. He's still hunched over it when Fernando comes home, shopping bags in hand. It's gotten dark at some point and Mark squints at him over the glaring light of his laptop.

"The sheep are still out," Fernando says, flicking on the light.

"Yeah," Mark agrees. "I got a bit distracted. Sorry."

"Not budgets," Fernando says. "Mark, we went over this."

"No," Mark dismisses, closing the lid on his laptop before Fernando can get to him. "It was something else. Don't worry about it. I'll go round up the girls."

"Okay," Fernando agrees, eyeing him suspiciously. Mark places a kiss on the top of his head as he makes his way to the door.

The next day, when Fernando is feeding the sheep, Mark sneaks inside and jumps in the shower, cleaning the farm from him. He's used to the smells, it doesn't bother him, not like working at the fish farm always did, but it's nice to wash it all off him now, a symbol of the evening he has planned. He grabs some clean jeans and a hoodie, picking up his car keys on the way to the door.

"I'm going into the village," he calls as he passes Fernando, not breaking stride.

"I went yesterday," Fernando complains. "You should have told me if you needed something."

"I didn't know I needed it then," Mark dismisses. "Everything's done, I'll try not to be long."

Fernando is clearly irritated as he jumps into his car but Mark hopes it will be worth it later. Usually he wouldn't bother with the supermarkets when there's so much great produce around but he doesn't think he's going to find what he needs in any of his usual stops so he bypasses the village and heads into town instead.

He feels like a kid in a candy shop and he has to remind himself to concentrate on his list. Still, he throws in chocolate bars and crisps, things he can't get in the farm shops, knowing that Fernando will be grateful for them too. It's not as though they've turned to clean living, they just like to support the other farmers in the area and fresh does taste better so they rarely travel too far away.

The dogs follow him into the house as usual, sniffing at his bags, and Fernando's right, he really is too soft on them. He puts the bags down and shoos them back out, closing the utility door as Fernando comes through from the living room, the sound of the TV following him.

"You've been to town," Fernando says, looking at his bags. "You did not say you were going to town. You didn't ask if I wanted anything."

"You went shopping yesterday," Mark says.

"I did not go to town," Fernando responds indignantly.

"Well what did you want?" Mark asks.

"I don't know," Fernando admits. "But you didn't ask."

Mark reaches into one of the bags, pulling out a chocolate bar and offering it to Fernando, raising his eyebrows in question.

"Okay," Fernando agrees, opening it up.

"Good," Mark says. "Now, you go take a bath, I'm going to make you dinner."

"I will take a shower," Fernando says, turning to leave.

"No," Mark insists. "Take a bath, relax, get nice and warm and cosy. I might need a while."

"What are you making?" Fernando asks curiously, reaching for one of the bags.

Mark slaps his hand away. "Go," he directs. "Now."

Fernando takes a step back, his lips curving into a smile, even though his eyes still look somewhat apprehensive. Mark reaches out, snapping a piece of chocolate from his bar. It tastes so good that he lets it melt on his tongue, momentarily distracted from what he's doing.

"Okay," Fernando relents.

The TV turns off in the next room and then Mark can hear Fernando's feet on the stairs, water running upstairs. He slides his phone from his pocket, opening up the instructions and wondering if he's bitten off more than he can chew.

He actually enjoys cooking, the process of it, creating something. He usually doesn't have the energy for it and more complex recipes seem to make a bigger mess, something that isn't nearly as fun when you're the one who has to clean it up. But for this task he has endless patience, even if he's not entirely sure if he's doing it right.

By the time Fernando returns from his bath, wearing pyjamas and a snugly jumper, the whole room smells delicious. When Fernando sees what's on the stove he peers at it with wide eyes.

"Mark?" he says with wonder. "What is this?"

"It's your favourite," Mark tells him. "Well according to your mum. I emailed her."

"You emailed my mum to ask what my favourite food was?" Fernando asks, looking up at Mark with big eyes.

Mark shrugs, concentrating on stirring. "She sent me instructions, step by step, but I probably messed it up somewhere so don't get too excited."

"No, looks perfect," Fernando tells him. "Mark," he says again, demanding his attention. Mark looks at him. "Thank you. Is very special. Do not know why I deserve it."

"Because I love you," Mark tells him. "Because this whole thing isn't easy, I know that. I just... I wanted to make a gesture."

Fernando wraps his arms around Mark's waist. "I love you too. So much."

"Let's eat then," Mark tells him, turning in Fernando's arms to give him a kiss. They linger on it for a moment and Mark closes his eyes, letting himself revel in the warm feeling inside him. That's why it's worth it, he reminds himself.

They sit down at the table and Fernando breathes in his plate and smiles at Mark.

"This is good," Mark says around his mouthful. "I don't know if it's what it's supposed to taste like, but it's good."

"Is just right," Fernando tells him. "Thank you."

They eat and they talk about Spain, growing up, their favourite things. It feels like when they were dating and they couldn't get enough of each other, wanting to explore each other's lives, wanting to know everything about each other. Mark felt like he'd run out of stories to tell Fernando, like all they had left was to make new memories together, and sometimes that felt like a lot of pressure. Sometimes it felt suffocating. But there are still so many tiny intimacies that he isn't privy to, so many seemingly inconsequential moments in his life that suddenly seem worthy of sharing. They have a lot to talk about and none of it has anything to do with sheep.

"I think we should decorate the tree," Fernando says, reaching across the table to hold onto Mark's hand.

"We're doing it on Monday," Mark tells him. "That's what we agreed."

"I think we should do it now," Fernando insists. "I _want_ to do it now. Will look nice."

"You sure?" Mark asks.

"I say we could do it yesterday," Fernando reminds him.

"I was in a bad mood yesterday," Mark says apologetically.

"Are you in a bad mood today?" Fernando asks.

"No," Mark responds, squeezing his hand. "I'm in the best mood today."

"Then let us decorate the tree," Fernando states, getting to his feet.

The box of decorations Mark bought in still in the corner of the room shoved under the tree, the lights tangled up in there too. Fernando tries to pick them apart but he soon gets impatient, handing them to Mark and then digging through the decorations, laying them out on the rug in front of the fire.

"These are nice," he says.

"I should've waited until we were together to buy them," Mark apologises, standing up as he shakes the lights free. "I got carried away. As usual. Sorry."

"No, I like them," Fernando insists. "Really. They look good in here. You choose right."

"It's not just my tree though," Mark says, unwinding the last knot in the lights. "It should represent both of us."

"I have seen some decorations on the internet to make," Fernando says, fussing with the ornaments on the rug in a way that tells Mark he's too shy to look up. "I think maybe I would like to try some."

"Yeah?" Mark asks, unable to keep the grin off his face. "That sounds amazing, I'd love that."

"Would not be as good as Linda's, of course," Fernando says, picking up one of the little Santas.

"We'll see," Mark responds. "They'll be a hell of a lot more special."

Fernando smiles, getting to his feet to help Mark wind the lights around the tree. Once they're in position Mark leans over to plug them in, breathing a sigh of relief when they all light up.

"Some people might check the lights _before_ they put them on the tree," Fernando comments.

"Never accuse me of being organised or intelligent," Mark responds.

The twinkling lights make Mark smile as they scoop up the decorations, arranging them around the tree. There's not many but Mark likes that it's a work in progress, something they can add to. Each gap is a little promise, a future moment to look forward to, a page in their story. There really is no one he'd rather write it with.

Fernando turns the overhead light off so that there's nothing but the tiny coloured bulbs shining in the room. It makes Mark feel like a kid, anticipation causing him to bounce on the balls of his feet. He's always loved this time of year and all the love and togetherness that it represents. He takes his phone from his pocket, snapping a photograph as Fernando comes to stand by his side.

"Looks good," Fernando comments.

"Looks amazing," Mark responds, attaching the photo into a text and sending it to Christian. He slips his phone back into his pocket and wraps his arm around Fernando's waist, pulling him in close and placing a kiss on top of his head.

"You kiss me like a dog," Fernando complains.

"What?" Mark asks, creasing his face in confusion. "I don't kiss the dogs."

"Always on the top of the head," Fernando says, exasperated.

"Well you're tiny, it's the only part of you I can reach without putting my back out," Mark responds.

Fernando gives him a look. "I would meet you halfway."

"Oh yeah?" Mark asks, pulling him closer. "How would that go?"

"Something like this," Fernando responds, moving onto his tiptoes to kiss Mark on the mouth.

Mark holds him there, arms wrapped around his waist to keep their bodies pressed tightly together. He nibbles at Fernando's lower lip, making a questioning noise which Fernando answers by parting his lips, letting Mark lick his way inside. Mark's body responds instantly, his skin feeling warm, hairs standing on end. He grips the back of Fernando's jumper, making a fist out of the material, wanting him impossibly closer.

Real kisses, kisses filled with want and passion, they feel like they've been lacking lately. Mark doesn't let himself dwell on that, he simply enjoys what he has in front of him, the blood running through his veins, all doubts abandoned in favour of letting himself be in love. Everything else, the farm and the money and the daily chores, can wait. He doesn't want to be anything other than Fernando's boyfriend right now and if he can remember this feeling a little more often he's certain they're going to be fine, whatever else life throws at them.

They switch the Christmas lights off, fumbling together in the darkness to get to the stairs, choosing the right kind of early night for once.


	2. Sebastian

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by the chapter on Hammerfest in Bill Bryson's book _Neither Here Nor There_.

Sebastian was never very good at making friends at school. He was shy and awkward and a teacher's pet; qualities that rarely endeared him to anyone. When he started dating Heikki he became a little more popular by association but he still chose to keep himself mostly to himself. He needed to get good A-level results if he wanted to get into his first choice university and so he hit the books hard and gave spare moments only to Heikki, his favourite study buddy and his explorer of all things new and sexual. It was probably his favourite thing about those two years.

When he gets to university he's not the dorky little kid anymore. Part of that is down to his own increase in confidence that comes from being loved by someone who's not obligated to do so, but mostly it's because he feels like he's found his place. Everyone on this exclusive course had to work incredibly hard to get here and nobody thinks Sebastian is a swot. It's also not a given that he's going to be the smartest kid in class anymore but he likes that challenge.

He makes friends fast, finding them so easy to connect with when they have so much in common, and his new life is all consuming in a way that makes him feel guilty. Heikki's not exactly calling him nightly either though, having his own adventures, and when they finally have the conversation it's not painful so much as sadly inevitable. He gets incredibly drunk that night, because it seems fitting, but he regrets it the next morning when he has an early lecture. Antonio hands him a can of Red Bull and tells him he's funding his future career.

Life goes on and it's only when he's laid in bed at night and he's not thinking about lectures or coursework or making weekend plans with his friends or remembering to Skype Christian as least once a fortnight so he knows he's still alive, that his mind wanders to Heikki, all those firsts they shared, a montage of moments that ends so abruptly because they won't be adding to the best of reel now. He was in love for two years, he learnt so much about life and sex and himself, and now it's over and he tries to put that into perspective for himself but he can't. It was such a natural conclusion and he's so certain it was the right decision the only thing keeping him up at night is guilt over his broken heart not hurting more.

His life settles into a routine and it's easy to move on when everything around him is new. He's not a little brother or a daddy's boy or a teacher's pet or that hot Finnish guy's boyfriend; he's just Seb. His lectures are engaging and he finds himself easily getting lost in the subject matter, enjoying discussions with his professors and spending hours in the library. But if he's learnt anything from Heikki it's that life is all about balance and some of his favourite moments are hungover Sunday morning breakfasts in the food hall with his friends, when everyone's sleepy and delicate and maybe still a little bit drunk, their inhibitions lowered.

That's where the idea of the holiday first comes up. He can't remember now whose idea it was, but they all agreed that seeing the Northern Lights was definitely bucket list worthy and the Christmas break seemed as good a time as any. Sebastian has never been known for his spontaneity but there's no way he's going to miss out on this.

And so they climb aboard a bus in a freezing cold Oslo painfully early in the morning having taken the red eye from Heathrow the night before. None of them have slept but they have a very long bus journey ahead of them to take care of that. It's exciting at first as they pick out their seats, talking about what they're going to do when they get there, discussing their chances of actually seeing the Lights, laughing at how idiotic they're going to look for their impromptu trip if they don't even see anything. They'd already been the butt of more than a couple of jokes for all the time and money they were potentially wasting on 48 hours of perpetual cold and darkness.

A few hours into the journey it becomes pretty tedious and Sebastian is tired and uncomfortable and thinking about how spoiled he would be getting at home right now. He heard the disappointment in Christian's voice when he told him he wouldn't be back home until the 21st. He remembers Mark coming home from university for that first Christmas break and how Christian had fussed over him, making all his favourite foods and letting him choose what to watch on TV and doting on his every whim. He's probably dying to do the same for Sebastian now, if only he'd come home.

As much as Sebastian appreciated the quiet of his house after Mark went to university, not to mention the fact that he wasn't getting tortured on a daily basis, he missed Mark. He was only 13 and his big brother was still his idol, a fact that he was certain Mark never understood. He was so much cooler than Sebastian, he was popular and funny and he never seemed to worry about anything. Even at that age Sebastian was already worrying about what he was going to become, plotting out his future, burying himself in schoolwork and extra reading so that he wouldn't fall behind. He envied Mark's ability to take things in his stride, the fact that he never seemed to put too much pressure on himself.

Sebastian smiles at the thought of it, looking to Esteban sat beside him who's watching something on his tablet. Esteban takes out one earbud, offering it out to Sebastian who shakes his head, digging into his bag for his textbook instead. If he's going to be sat still for this length of time he may as well get some studying done.

It's pitch black when they finally arrive in Hammerfest and their travel weary bodies tell them it's time to crawl into bed but in reality it's the middle of the morning. They check into their hotel, the woman behind the desk acting rather grumpy about their arrival. She hands them a couple of keys and points them in the direction of their family room. There are a set of twin beds pushed about two inches apart and then a sofa contraption set up into bunkbeds that look worryingly unstable. All the bedding looks at least thirty years old and the overhead light is stark, stinging Sebastian's eyes.

He puts his bag onto one of the twin beds, not wanting to risk being crushed to death if it collapses in the night, or crushing his friend to death if he takes the top bunk. Jaime grabs the other bed and Antonio calls dibs on the top bunk, leaving Esteban to take his life into his hands every time he climbs into bed.

"We could nap, right?" Antonio asks, wandering over to the window.

"We should go for a walk," Esteban says. "Have a look around."

"We could use the fresh air," Sebastian agrees.

Jaime starts looking through his bag for an extra scarf while Antonio puts his hood up in a way that somehow looks defiant.

There's not much to see as they wander between the pools of light left by the street lamps. The town is quiet, the freezing wind coming off the sea making conversation hard as they all hunker down in their coats. There are Christmas lights strung up outside the houses and Sebastian imagines his own tree at home. It doesn't quite feel like Christmas yet, his head hasn't gotten into the right frame of mind for frivolity and Christmas cheer. They didn't put any decorations up in the halls at university but Jaime did draw a Santa hat onto Antonio's poster of whatever lingerie clad model was on his wall and Antonio had not been impressed.

As they reach the docks and turn back towards the town it looks unreal. There's no sense of scale, just the lights of the buildings surrounded by a vast blackness, like a little toy town glowing in the darkness of a family living room. Sebastian suddenly feels a wave of homesickness he hasn't felt since his first week at university and he blames it on the tiredness. There's just something about how tiny and vulnerable it looks that makes him feel more exposed than the driving ocean winds do.

"Can we go back?" Antonio asks. "I'm freezing my dick off."

Jaime tilts his head, looking pointedly at Antonio's crotch.

"We could go and explore the headland," Esteban suggests.

"Or we could go see how fast the hotel wifi is," Antonio counters.

"I vote for wifi," Jaime agrees. "Seb?"

"Huh?" Sebastian asks, tearing his gaze away from the town. "What's happening?"

"You want to walk into the darkness with Esteban or head back to the hotel?" Jaime asks.

"We can go back," Sebastian agrees.

If the weather were less painful and he wasn't so exhausted and hungry he could probably stand in this spot all night, but for now he just wants to throw himself on his bed and decompress for a while, his last assignment of the term still weighing on his mind, his Christmas break reading feeling too much like a pressing obligation already.

The hotel wifi proves to be unreliable at best but Sebastian is too tired to worry about that right now. He's never been a person that napped, he had far too many things to fit into his day and a healthy sleep schedule is the best way to feel well rested, but he spends the next couple of hours contentedly dozing as he listens to snatches of conversation between his friends. It feels like such a safe, happy place to be, like when he was a kid and he used to fall asleep on the sofa during movie night snuggled up to Christian.

They eat in the hotel restaurant at a time that seems completely inconvenient to the owner, but Sebastian's starting to think that maybe that's just her face. They've eaten nothing but junk food and snacks for the last 48 hours so real food is a blessing and they over indulge with starters and side dishes and desserts, all washed down with ridiculously expensive beer.

"I didn't realise it was going to be so expensive to get drunk here," Jaime says.

"I think buying the strongest thing they serve will work out most cost effective," Esteban suggests, looking at the selection of bottles behind the bar.

"I love when you put your prodigious brain to good use," Antonio praises.

Esteban is a year younger than them, having taken his A-levels early, and though he looks his age it certainly doesn't show in his intellect and he's more than capable of keeping up. Sometimes he makes Sebastian feel like such a late bloomer but he's grateful he did everything at the right time in life, he likes the predictability of it. Sebastian knows that Esteban struggled socially from being put ahead but at Brookes, just like the rest of them, he found a place where he fit right in and his brains were expected rather than marvelled at.

The bartender seems no more keen to serve them than the owner did but after a few shots in their already full bellies they go back to their room to put on as many items of clothing as they possibly can before braving the cold again. It doesn't feel as bad this time, now that Sebastian has warmed up and he has some sustenance in him, not to mention the fact that he might be slightly tipsy and watching Antonio struggle into the wind ahead of him makes him giggle.

They find their way up to a memorial stood without ceremony in a paved area amongst the warehouses. Sebastian climbs excitedly onto it, taking his phone out of his pocket so he can shine the light onto the inscribed writing.

"I read about this," he tells the others. "This is one of the points they used to measure the meridian for the first time."

Esteban comes over to see but the others look uninterested, gazing hopefully up at the expanse of sky above them instead.

"My dad would love this," Sebastian says, thinking of Adrian and his love for science, the measurements of the universe, the way the world works. Order in the chaos is what he does every day, making sense of the elements and the forces of the earth, taking them into account in his designs. He steps back, snapping a photograph, the area momentarily lighting up like a flash of lightening. "I love history," he says to himself.

"Aren't we about progress?" Jaime asks. "Building the future."

"You have to know where we've been if you want to get where we're going," Sebastian responds.

It starts to snow on the walk back to the hotel and the town couldn't look more like a fairytale if it tried. Sebastian stands in it for a moment, putting out his gloved hands to catch snowflakes. Mark was always so excited by the first snow of winter but Sebastian had to be coerced to go and play out in it. He liked to look at it, liked seeing it coat the world, but it was cold and wet and he'd rather be tucked up in the warmth with his books. He remembers watching Mark and Adrian out of the window for a whole afternoon once, building an igloo structure out of snow. In the end Christian forced him into his coat, put a hat on his head and shoved him outside where he was immediately hit in the face by a snowball, courtesy of Mark. Christian didn't complain when he went straight back inside again.

The flakes are mesmerising as they swirl beneath the streetlights and Sebastian finally has the urge to play in it, to build a snowman, to have a snowball fight. He rushes to catch up with his friends, practically skipping as they make their way through the worsening snow, huge flakes bigger than any Sebastian's seen before, and against the backdrop of the lit up town it looks just like a Christmas card.

The wifi is even worse in the snow and the TV only seems to have one channel so they decide to take an early night, all still exhausted from their journey. Sebastian is asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow and he's dead to the world until Antonio's voice wakes him in the morning.

"Fucking hell!"

Sebastian squints at him stood by the window wearing his boxers and hoodie, peering behind the curtain. "What's wrong?"

"Snowmageddon," Antonio exclaims.

Sebastian wraps his blanket around himself and climbs over Jaime in the other bed who grunts at him. He looks out of the window and sees there's nearly a foot of snow on the ground and it's still falling. Clearly it hasn't stopped all night.

"We're not going to see the Lights through this."

"I don't think we're going home tomorrow," Esteban announces as he comes into the room, already dressed. "The roads are blocked, the buses can't get through."

"Fuck," Antonio curses, moving away from the window. "Why the hell did we come here?"

"I think maybe we were drunk," Esteban says.

"Let's go back to sleep," Jaime suggests turning over and pulling the covers up over his head.

Sebastian stares out at the pristine blanket of snow outside, glowing yellow in the artificial light. "Does anyone want to build a snowman?"

"No," Antonio says, falling down on Sebastian's bed. "Because we're not five."

"Esteban?" Sebastian asks hopefully.

"Because I'm the baby?" Esteban asks. "No."

Sebastian looks at the lump under the covers that is Jaime and decides against asking him. He turns back to the window, looking up at the sky, the flakes emerging from the darkness like some kind of magic trick.

"Internet's working," Esteban exclaims, sitting with his laptop on his bunk.

"Pass my phone," Antonio asks, holding out his hand.

"Get it yourself," Sebastian tells him.

"Don't sulk because no one wants to play with you, princess," Antonio responds.

Sebastian grabs Antonio's phone from his bed and throws it at him a little too hard. He takes his own laptop over to the desk and writes a quick email to his parents. He mentions the snow but not the possible delay home yet, he doesn't want to make Christian worry.

They make it to breakfast just before the cut off time of 10am and the owner looks incredibly unimpressed about it. As they eat she intermittently comes into the room and crosses her arms over her chest as she stares at them.

"She's going to be so pissed if we don't leave tomorrow," Jaime comments.

Sebastian looks at the bar. "How drunk do I need to get you before you'll build a snowman with me?"

"You paying?" Antonio asks.

"I'll buy you a shot of Aquavit each," Sebastian bargains. "What else are we going to do?"

"Fine," Antonio agrees.

Warmed by their shots they bundle up as though they're going on an arctic expedition and walk around the hotel to the spot outside their room window. There doesn't seem much point building it if they're not going to be able to enjoy their handiwork.

Sebastian takes the task more seriously than his friends, systematically rolling a ball of snow up and down to make it grow bigger and bigger until he has his snowman's body. Esteban makes the head while Antonio and Jaime kick and throw snow at each other. A snowball connects with the back of Sebastian's hood and he spins around to see Jaime readying another one. Before he can launch it Sebastian retaliates, laughing as he hits Jaime square in the chest.

It deteriorates from there, every man for himself as they fire snow across the space at each other, using friends as shields, ganging up on unsuspecting members of the group. By the time they've decimated all the snow around them they're freezing and soaked and breathless and giddy. Jaime runs across the empty road to a fresh patch of snow and throws himself on his back, making a snow angel. They all join in, making angelic little outlines of themselves.

"Okay," Jaime says, jumping up. "I'm done."

"We need to finish the snowman," Sebastian says.

"You built one," Antonio shrugs, gesturing to it.

"He needs arms," Sebastian says. "And a face. Help me find some stones or something."

Seeing that they're not going to get away with it they all search around for the finishing touches to the snowman. His arms are lopsided, one bigger than the other, and he doesn't have a nose, but it's not a bad effort.

They stand on the doorstep stomping their feet to get the snow off their shoes before heading inside and taking all their wet gear off. They hang it on and above the heaters, the windows soon fogging up with all the moisture in the air.

The wifi continues to go on and off and Sebastian knows that he should do some uni work but he can't seem to focus past basic reading, and even then Antonio keeps throwing paper airplanes at his head.

"These have shit aero," Sebastian complains, throwing them back at him.

It quickly deteriorates into a competition until every piece of paper in the room has been folded and thrown until it's a crumpled mess. Sebastian loves that he has friends like these.

With nothing else to do they decide to check out the hotel lounge, a room as stuck in the past as the rest of the accommodation. There's a couple of boardgames with most of the pieces missing, a pack of 49 cards and some dominoes. It's not a thrilling afternoon.

With the snow continuing to fall there doesn't seem much point going out looking for the Lights, they can't see the sky anyway. It's still snowing when they go to sleep and Sebastian wonders how he's going to break the news to Christian that the start of Christmas is getting delayed again. Maybe he can bribe Mark into going over for a visit.

The next morning the owner confirms that the roads are still closed. The snowfall is lighter now, the flakes not as heavy, but the freezing temperatures mean that nothing's melting. Sebastian finds it hard to get motivated to do anything when the sun never rises and he wonders how people can do this for months at a time. He waits for it to get light before he climbs out of bed but he knows it's never going to happen so reluctantly he shuffles over to his laptop and emails his parents.

Breakfast is quiet, all of them stuck in their own thoughts, wondering just how much they've fucked up with their impromptu little trip. Sebastian barely notices the owner staring at them now, it's become the status quo. He feels like he's locked in a bizarre, never ending dream.

"We should do something," Esteban says. "I mean, we're not going anywhere, we might as well make the most of it."

"Another thrilling dominoes tournament?" Antonio asks.

"We can't come to Hammerfest and not visit the Polar Bear Society," Esteban responds.

Outside the museum are two polar bear statues that they have far too much fun posing with, taking photographs of each other that Sebastian knows will end up getting put on social media just as soon as they get some wifi. He used to be shy about that but now he finds it amusing, imagining the reactions of their other friends.

The museum itself is interesting but it's so tiny it takes them half an hour of very thorough reading of each and every sign before they've exhausted it. They each join the Society though because it's the thing to do and you get a cool pin to show you were there. They attach them to their coats before heading back out into the snow and nearly getting blown away by the ocean winds that refuse to ease off.

The snow is still falling when they go to sleep that night, the flakes finer but still coming down steadily.

"Goodnight, Olaf," Antonio says to the snowman as he closes the curtains.

"Don't call him Olaf," Sebastian complains.

"Let it go, Seb," Antonio responds, trying desperately to keep a straight face. Sebastian throws a pillow at him.

The days go on and the snow stops and starts but the roads remain closed. They go for walks every day, trudging through the snow, but the sky never clears enough for them to get a chance of seeing the Lights. They play dominoes and they use the internet when it works and they play drinking games based around the single TV channel. They study and quiz each other and play a game of truth or dare that proves detrimental to all of their health. The owner continues to act like she wishes they'd never been born.

One morning Sebastian is woken up by Antonio and Esteban rushing into the room.

"The roads are clear, the bus is leaving!" Antonio exclaims.

"What?" Sebastian ask groggily, sitting up.

"We can go home," Antonio says, grabbing his bag and shoving things into it. "It goes in twenty minutes. If it stays on schedule we be in Oslo for flights that'll get us home for Christmas Eve."

"But we didn't see the Lights," Sebastian says, getting up and moving over to the window. He can see the stars for the first time since they arrived. "It's clear, we could see them today."

"We could," Antonio agrees. "But then we'd miss Christmas."

"But..." Sebastian says, looking back out of the window. "I don't want to have come all this way and not even see them. What kind of pay off is that for all the effort we went to?"

"I have to go home," Esteban says, zipping up his bag. "I'm already in trouble with my parents."

"And I'm not staying here a second longer than I need to," Antonio says. "It's like the fucking Twilight Zone."

Sebastian watches as they start to put their coats on and looks to Jaime who is sat on his laptop as though this conversation isn't going on around him. "What do you think?" Sebastian asks him.

Jaime shrugs. "Are you staying?"

"I don't know," Sebastian says looking out of the window again.

He has a feeling Christian might never forgive him but he has to grow up some time. He feels like he's committed to this endeavour now and he wants to see it through. Christmas wouldn't feel like Christmas without Mark there anyway, everything is different than it was a year ago, than it was even three months ago. He's different. He's not the little kid who always does what's expected of him anymore.

"You guys need to make a decision because this bus is going to leave without you," Antonio says, shouldering his bag.

"I'm staying," Sebastian says firmly. "I'm going to stay. I want to see the Lights."

"You can stay here until it's time to go back to uni, you still might not see them," Antonio points out.

"I'm willing to take that chance," Sebastian responds.

"Guess I'm staying too then," Jaime says, not even looking up from his laptop.

"You don't have to," Sebastian tells him. Jaime hasn't exactly been the most engaged with this trip. Sebastian's surprised to see him out of bed if he's honest.

"Weirdly, this sounds like more fun than being with my family right now," Jaime responds.

"You two are seriously going to stay here in the land that time forgot?" Antonio asks.

"Give our regards to the world," Sebastian tells him.

When they head to breakfast the owner looks even more annoyed by their presence than usual and Sebastian and Jaime can barely keep a straight face. They bundle up and go for a walk, looking at the stars as they wander the town. The few people who are around are about as interested to see them as the owner of the hotel and for some reason it all seems so hilarious. Sebastian is giddy, like he knows he's doing something wrong but no one can stop him.

As they stand in front of the memorial at the headland Sebastian's phone rings in his pocket. He sees that it's Christian and his first thought is whether he'll have to pay roaming costs if he answers. It certainly won't be a cheap call for Christian.

"It says the buses are running."

"Oh, uh, yeah," Sebastian agrees awkwardly. Of course Christian has been tracking his progress online.

"Have you booked a ticket?" Christian asks. "I can do it from here with my credit card it you want, I'll work out your flight connection from Oslo and pay for it all."

"You don't have to do that," Sebastian tells him.

"I'll organise it and email you the links," Christian continues. "I'll get the timetables up."

"I'm staying," Sebastian says, his voice meeker than he'd like. "I'm going to stay."

"Stay where?" Christian asks. "We can get you home now."

"But I want to stay," Sebastian says a little more firmly. "I came here to see the Northern Lights. I want to see them."

"You won't make it back for Christmas if you don't set off today," Christian tells him.

"I know," Sebastian agrees. "But I want to stay."

"Oh," Christian says, and Sebastian can practically hear his heart breaking. "Right. Okay."

"It's just that I'm here now and..."

"Yeah, no, I understand," Christian cuts in. "Of course. Have a good time."

"Are you sure?" Sebastian asks, suddenly feeling guilty. "I can come back. I'm being stupid."

"No," Christian says, and he sounds like he means it. "Stay. Have fun."

"Okay," Sebastian agrees, still feeling uncertain. "I'll be back as soon as I can."

"Enjoy yourself," Christian tells him. "You can show us the photos when you get home."

The mood feels somewhat more subdued as they trudge back into town. It's colder now the snow clouds have cleared, the wind more biting, and Sebastian pulls his beanie further down on his head, shoving his hands into his pockets.

There's no sign of the Lights so they go inside to warm up. Sebastian sits on the edge of his bed and looks at the snowman out of the window, his hands wrapped around a cup of coffee. There's some discussion about turning the sofa back into a sofa but they're scared they'll lose a finger if they mess with the contraption and it seems like too much effort anyway.

After dinner they head out again, walking up and down the town, chatting about Christmas and traditions and families and uni. After an hour the clear sky refuses to show them anything but the pinpricks of stars and they can hardly feel their fingers any more so they head into the bar. Sebastian goes to order their third aquavit shots of the evening when the weary bartender just places the bottle on the bar in front of Sebastian.

"You take it."

"Oh," Sebastian says, looking into his wallet. "How much?"

The bartender shakes his head. "Just take," he practically begs.

"Okay," Sebastian agrees, picking up the bottle and waiting to see what the bartender's reaction is. He walks away, leaving the bar, apparently giving up for the night. Sebastian turns back to Jaime and holds up the bottle. "Freebie."

They take it back to their room and Jaime puts on some music, a mix he's made on his computer, and it's actually pretty good. With every drink it sounds better. They attempt to play truth or dare but Jaime's first dare to Sebastian is for them to kiss and they don't get any further into the game than that.

It's weird and not weird, Jaime's hands on him. The way Jaime kisses him, needy and demanding all at once, makes Sebastian thread his hands into his hair and tug, rolling them over. They strip themselves and each other, messy and rushed and imperfect, and Sebastian tastes him everywhere, surrenders while Jaime's mouth moves over every inch of him. By the time Sebastian is sprawled on the bed, watching Jaime roll on a condom, he feels high on sensation and completely uninhibited.

They move together, kissing, touching, testing out the boundaries. Sebastian likes the way Jaime pins his wrists down as he presses inside him, but he also likes wrapping his legs around Jaime's waist to stop him from moving, likes turning them over and getting on top, likes shifting around to take it from behind. He doesn't know if it's the alcohol or his own self-confidence or the fact that Jaime has no pre-conceived notions of him, has known him for such a short space of time, that makes this so freeing, but it's like he wants to use everything he's ever learnt all in one go and pick up a few more things along the way. Jaime is more than game to keep up.

When they finally collapse on the bed, completely spent, Sebastian can't help the giggles that bubble up inside him, leaving him a helpless, laughing mess. Jaime turns his head to look at him.

"Are you okay?" he asks with a raised eyebrow.

"Yeah," Sebastian says, forcing himself to breathe. "That was really fun."

"I aim to please," Jaime responds, looking back up at the ceiling.

"I've only ever had sex with one person," Sebastian tells him. "My ex. We were together for a long time."

"The Finn," Jaime says knowingly.

"Right," Sebastian agrees. "The Finn." He rolls onto his side to look at Jaime. "When you're with one person like that, you kind of get into a routine. I'm not saying it was bad, he was really good."

"I'm so glad," Jaime responds, giving him that bemused look again.

"But it gets predictable," Sebastian says. "That wasn't predictable. I couldn't second guess what was going to happen next. Everything was new and that was... fun."

Jaime turns to face him. "It was," he agrees. "I'm going to take a shower."

Over the next few days they take a lot of walks and they play dominoes and they listen to Jaime's music and they visit the Polar Bear Society and sometimes they make out. It all helps to pass the time but every day that ends without seeing the Lights they start to feel more and more foolish for staying here.

"You are here for Christmas Day?" the owner asks them after breakfast.

"Yeah," Sebastian agrees.

She gives a heavy, put upon sigh. "You have to come eat with us," she says. "The apartment is through here."

"Oh, no, it's fine," Sebastian insists. "We'll take care of our own food, if you'll just let us stay in the room that would be great."

"You cannot be alone on Christmas," the owner states adamantly. "You come to us. 1 o'clock, through here. Do not be late."

Sebastian and Jaime exchange a glance and neither dare argue.

"Okay."

"But do not be early," the owner adds, waving a warning finger at them.

"1 o'clock, on the dot," Sebastian agrees.

The owner gives a curt nod and leaves.

"Do you think we're what's for dinner?" Jaime asks as they make their way back to their room.

They haven't exactly brought any smart clothes with them, nor have they had laundry facilities since they arrived in Hammerfest, but they make the best effort they can, turning up with an over-priced bottle of wine they bought from the small shop around the corner. They're immediately sat down at the table with the rest of the family and it soon becomes apparent that the owner treats her own children with the same distain she treats them. Maybe she is fond of them after all.

They can't understand most of the conversation going on around the dinner table but the food is hearty and delicious, mutton ribs and vegetables and sour kraut and cranberry sauce, all washed down with mulled wine. At the end of the meal, fit to burst, they're both sent away with a gift of a small marzipan pig and Sebastian can't help feeling touched but also homesick, wondering about the gifts his own family have gotten him. He imagines Christian and Adrian alone at the big dining table and he's glad when Jaime suggests a walk so that he can blame the stinging winds for any tears that fall.

Nothing happens for the next few days and Sebastian starts to truly feel like he's slipped into a parallel time stream. He feels so far away from the world in this little town with its perpetual darkness and it's dated furniture and the people who all seem slightly strange and treat him likewise. He and Jaime walk the town beneath the streetlights. They play games. They try to study. They drink. They stare at the sky.

One night, when boredom leads to another make out session, they're interrupted by a banging on the door. They spring apart like guilty children.

"You are missing your Lights," the owner shouts through the door before her footsteps can be heard stomping away.

They jump from the bed, tearing the curtains open and looking to the sky. The sliver of green Sebastian sees takes his breath away. They grab for coats and shoes and hats and gloves, running out into the night. Walking up the road they see that it's everywhere, suspended above the town, colours dancing and bleeding into each other, and it adds the final touch to that otherworldliness that Sebastian has felt since the moment he stepped off that bus.

It goes on for nearly an hour, a light show that Sebastian can't believe is natural. The wind rushes around his ears, disconnecting him from everything around him, freezing him through all his layers so that he feels unreal just like what he's witnessing. It's more amazing than anything he could imagine, filling him with a sense of utter wonder he can't remember feeling since he was a child and he took his first trip to Santa's Grotto, the elves and the lights and the real reindeer, like stepping into another world.

Sebastian can see the lights begin to die away but then all of a sudden they're gone like someone has flicked a switch. He and Jaime exchange a look but neither of them have any words and so they walk back to the hotel in silence. They wrap themselves in their blankets and lie in bed, staring at the ceiling and playing it all over again in their heads.

"I suppose we should get the bus back tomorrow morning then," Jaime says.

"Yeah," Sebastian agrees, and as glad he is that he stayed, he suddenly can't wait to be home.


	3. Jenson

Christmas dinner was burgers on the beach. It didn't feel very Christmassy.

The beach is where Jenson finds himself again now, somewhere down the Great Ocean Road. He stopped paying attention to the place names weeks ago. It's beautiful, the sky a crisp blue, the water so clear that sometimes he just stands in it and stares at his feet. Everything is fresh and vibrant and Jenson doesn't think he's ever been more bored in his life. It all feels so repetitive.

He sits at the picnic bench at the edge of the sand and watches Nico down the beach, topless and tanned and playing frisbee with their new American friends. Nico's new American friends, Jenson thinks bitterly. He's not upset with Nico for getting along with everyone so well; he's upset with his own inability to embrace this whole experience and make the kind of friends that you're supposed to keep for life, even if only on Facebook.

Jenson has decided he doesn't want any more friends. He doesn't want to see any more pristine beaches or explore any more new countries or have any more adventures. He feels old and he feels done, like he's on a treadmill that he can't get off. To put it bluntly, he wants to go home.

Nico jogs over to him, all smiles and breathless energy, and Jenson can't help but smile back. He loves this man, he really does. It's a shame their lives are so utterly incompatible because Jenson still believes that he's hit the jackpot, getting someone as hot and smart and brave and generous as this to love him back.

"You should come play," Nico enthuses. Jenson just shakes his head. Nico grabs his drink, taking a swig. "I like seeing you sweaty," he says, putting that sultry note into his voice.

Jenson reaches across the table, taking hold of Nico's hand, and Nico twines their fingers together. Jenson stares at them for a moment, how well they fit.

"Can we get a private room?" he asks. "In Sydney. For New Year."

Nico snorts a laugh. "They'll all be booked up by now."

"A hotel then," Jenson says. "I'll pay."

Nico rolls his eyes, making Jenson feel tiny. "Everything will be booked up. Why are you being so precious?"

"I never get you to myself," Jenson responds, looking down at the table top, embarrassed by the admission. He shakes his head. "I don't mean it like that. We just never get any privacy."

Nico squeezes his hand. "Shower blowjob coming up tonight," he promises.

"No," Jenson says, pulling his hand away as he sits up straighter. "I don't want some illicit little quickie in a disgusting shower stall. Remember when we had a bed? Not a fucking bunkbed. And we could do whatever we wanted whenever we wanted and we were a real actual couple?"

"Yeah," Nico says, but Jenson can tell from the hesitance in his voice that he doesn't get it. "We can still do all those things. We will. But we're travelling, we're exploring, this is what you do. It's about the experience. I want to do all that with you. It's something we'll always have. There's always going to be time for long fucks and lazy mornings, but this is something we have to do while we can, before we grow out of it."

Jenson squeezes his eyes shut because he thinks he already has.

"We'll get a hotel room," Nico says. "After Sydney. A nice one. We'll spend some quality time together."

Jenson smiles at him but he feels a sinking feeling. This isn't something he feels like he should have to beg for.

The American's drive them to their next hostel and Jenson's back on the same merry go around again. Check in, collect your bedding, carry your cripplingly heavy backpack up a flight of stairs, wander around the corridors, find your room that's already full of strangers, step around their belongs, make your bed. A day or two later it's time to pack your life back into that same wretched backpack and lug it to the next location for more of the same; meeting strangers, making beds, disrupted sleep, questionable hygiene. It's all worn so very thin.

At the end of the dorm someone is listening to music, the bass thudding across the room despite the oversized headphones the guy is wearing. The window is open and laughter filters through. He can hear the clanking of pans from the communal kitchen.

Jenson takes the bottom bunk without discussion with Nico. He's too tired and in too bad a mood to contemplate climbing up a ladder. He starts to make his bed as Nico abandons his things and grabs his key.

"Want to go look around?"

"I think I'll phone my dad," Jenson responds. "I'll catch up with you."

Nico places a kiss on his lips and then he's gone, closing the door behind him. Jenson lies down on his bunk, closing his eyes and trying to ignore the sounds around him, trying to wish himself away. He knows it's never going to work. He tries to imagine another nine months of this. He can't. Another nine weeks is a stretch. Truth be told he doesn't think he could manage another nine days.

He thinks back to getting that first flight from Heathrow back in September, telling himself his backpack wasn't that heavy, telling himself he was excited. Even then he knew that the nervous energy inside him was fuelled mostly by trepidation. He wanted to do this, but most of all he thinks he wanted it to be a thing he'd done. He wanted the experience, the stories, the bragging rights. He never really considered the realities of living through it.

Nico had always travelled since he was small, had seen more of the world than Jenson could find on a map, and he was always so passionate about it, his eyes lit up when he spoke about the world. Jenson sometimes went to France with his dad when he was little, and even then he was always glad to be home. But he loved Nico's stories, felt inspired by them, wanted some of his own. He wanted them to have some they could share.

He finds that he spends most of his time working out the time difference to back home and wondering when he can ring his dad or Mark. He's never spent so long away from either of them and sending them postcards, seeing them on a computer screen, it doesn't scratch Jenson's itch. It just makes him more homesick than ever.

He craves his little single bed in his dad's ex-council flat. He craves the spare room at Mark's house. He craves the local pub in Wales and the clubs in Oxford. He craves proper tea and Waitrose and buying his underwear from Marks and Spencers. He craves the cold and the rain and the grey skies and getting wrapped up to brave leaving his house to go Christmas shopping. He craves turkey and roast potatoes and thick gravy and even sprouts.

When he wakes up there's more people in the room and Nico is stroking the side of his face. He tries to sit up, feeling disorientated.

"You didn't come find me," Nico says.

"I fell asleep," Jenson says. "Sorry. I didn't mean to."

"Must be all that watching me run around you were doing," Nico jokes. He climbs into the bunk with Jenson, taking out his phone. "I was looking at this site," he explains. "I was talking to a guy who works here, he recommended it to me. It's people with spare rooms who rent to backpackers, you can get some good deals and we'd have our own space, plus if you get a motherly type they'll make you breakfast."

Jenson smiles, leaning against him. "That sounds good. Thanks."

"We'll check it out properly," Nico says. "For after Sydney."

"Yeah," Jenson agrees. Nico makes a move to get up but Jenson grabs his arm. "Stay here," he says. "We can share."

They climb under the sheets together, Jenson spooning against Nico's back, an arm around his waist. Nico draws patterns on Jenson's hand with his finger until he falls asleep and Jenson feels so content just holding him. It's different when he wakes up in the night and he's too hot but there's nowhere to move to. He tries shifting back but it puts him precariously close to the edge of the narrow bed.

Frustrated he slips out of the bed and climbs up to Nico's bunk instead, only to find that Nico never made his bed. He unfolds the sheets as best he can and tries to settle in the lumpy mess but it's no use. His impromptu afternoon nap and his own restlessness mean he's not getting any more sleep tonight.

He stares at the ceiling until he sees the first stirrings of light through the tattered curtains. Climbing carefully down the bed he pulls on some clothes and lets himself out. There's no one around as he heads across the road to the beach to watch the sunrise. It's cool as he sits in his shorts and hoodie and there's something so soothing about the quietness, the gradual reveal of the day.

He imagines a private room with Nico, a real bed. He imagines being able to take their time, being able to decide when and how they have sex, being able to come and go as they please and count on no one ever getting in the way. It would be like the flat in Cirencester, friends when they wanted them, privacy when they didn't, doing things on their own terms.

He could live like that. He could. But then what? They could travel for another nine months and Jenson could make it through but for him this isn't a lifestyle. When they go back to England Jenson wants it to be forever. He wants a flat in Oxford and a couple of graduate jobs and nights down the pub where they can tells their travel stories. He wants this all to be in the past tense. He knows that's not a way Nico could ever live. This is a way of life for him, this is the end goal, and he would never be any more content with a steady job in Oxford than Jenson would be living the nomad lifestyle.

It's in the stark light of day when Nico texts to find out where he is. Jenson responds and then he waits, staring out over the ocean. He wishes he'd brought his sunglasses out with him now, the sun glinting off the waves making him squint. Nico sits down beside him and Jenson turns to face him, feeling exhausted but not by his early morning. It all just feels like far too much.

"That look makes me glad I didn't book anything yet," Nico says as he sits down.

Jenson gives up on any pretence he has left. "I'm sorry."

"It's not for you," Nico says, shaking his head. "I knew that. But I made you come anyway."

"You didn't _make_ me," Jenson insists, taking hold of Nico's hand and leaning against him so they can both look over the ocean together. "I wanted to come. The way you talk about it, I wanted that, I wanted us to share that. But we don't share it. I like my home comforts."

"I know," Nico agrees, pressing a kiss to Jenson's temple. "You like your home."

Jenson nods. "I'm going to book a flight from Sydney."

"For after New Year's?" Nico asks.

"Before."

"Oh," Nico responds.

Jenson sits up. "I'm sorry," he says again. "I know that seems shitty. But spending New Year's Eve with someone you're not going to be spending the year with, it doesn't feel right. You're supposed to start as you mean to go on."

"You're right," Nico agrees, but Jenson can see the hurt in his eyes.

"I love you," Jenson says and he means it so much that it tears him apart.

Nico smiles at him. "I love you too."

"But your life choices are not my life choices," Jenson says. "I don't know how we could ever make each other happy in the long run."

Nico nods. "It's the responsible thing to do. It'll hurt less now. It's like a bandaid."

"Riiiiiiip," Jenson agrees.

Two days later they're standing in Sydney airport, Nico's backpack on his back, Jenson's checked into the baggage hold. It felt so good to pack it up in the hostel and know that it was the last time he was ever going to have to do it. He was already planning a ritualistic burning when he got home.

"You sure you'll be okay?" Jenson asks.

"You know me, I make friends easily," Nico assures him. "This is what I live for."

Jenson can't help but smile. "It lights you up," he says.

Nico smiles that smile that proves Jenson's point and what else is there to say?

They hug, Jenson forcing the lump down in his throat. Now is not the time to fall apart, it wouldn't be fair on either of them. He holds it together long enough to get through security and then he locks himself in a toilet stall and sobs, not caring who can hear him. It's a mixture of sadness at the reality of what he's giving up and relief that he's finally going home.

When he arrives at Heathrow it's freezing and his hoodie is definitely not enough to keep him warm but he can't help smiling. He retrieves his backpack from the luggage carousel, hefting it onto his back for a final time. As he steps out to the taxi rank he finds the final leg of his journey isn't going to be quite as easy as he anticipated. What else is new in his life?

He takes his phone from his pocket. It's one button on his homepage to connect him with Mark.

"English sim card?" Mark asks, forgoing a greeting.

"We broke up," Jenson says.

"Mate, I'm sorry," Mark responds, and Jenson feels loved just by how much he clearly means it.

"Yeah," he agrees glumly. "I mean, it's for the best and blah blah blah but yeah."

"We'll go for a drink," Mark says. "We'll go to Cirencester and buy cupcakes."

"I knew there was a reason you were my best friend," Jenson says, sitting down on a bench inside the terminal, but it's not much warmer with the wind howling through every time the automatic doors slide open.

"So what are you up to?" Mark asks. "You with the family?"

"I'm currently sitting in Heathrow," Jenson says. "My dad's in Somerset with my sisters. I was going to get a taxi to the flat in Oxford and work out what to do from there but it's New Year's Eve and everything's fucked up and it looks like I'm going to be ringing in the New Year in an airport bar."

Mark's familiar chuckle comes over the line. "I'm on my way."

"What? No. Don't be stupid," Jenson tells him. "That's not why I called. I just wanted someone to talk to. I'll work it out."

"I'm already on my way," Mark tells him. "Seb's flight lands in an hour, I'm picking him up. I'm sure we can fit another one in."

"Seriously?" Jenson asks, a flood of relief making him want to burst into tears again.

"We were going to stop off in London but we'll come straight there, get a coffee with you," Mark says. "Or something stronger."

"You're my favourite person in the world," Jenson tells him. "You're like my guardian angel."

"Let's not get carried away, mate," Mark laughs. "We'll see you soon."

When he sees Mark and Fernando walking across the airport towards him he feels like he's really, finally home. There's no pretence at playing it cool, he rushes over and flings himself at Mark, wrapping his arms tightly around him and gripping on as though his life depends on it. Mark holds him back just as hard, rubbing his back, and Jenson rests his head on Mark's shoulder, feeling himself tear up again.

"I missed you," Mark tells him. "I'm glad your home. Just wish it could be under better circumstances."

Jenson smiles, pulling back to look at him. "Thanks."

He moves over to Fernando, pulling him into a hug, and he's not as sturdy as Mark but he makes up for it in enthusiasm. Jenson didn't know Fernando any better than his other uni mates when they moved into the flat together for their Master's but over the course of the two years they lived together they became so close that Jenson knows they're the kind of friends that will always be a part of each other's lives, no matter what.

"He treating you alright?" he asks Fernando as he pulls away.

"Yes," Fernando smiles. "Very good."

Jenson nods. "You got a good one there," he tells Mark.

"I fucking know," Mark assures him. "Come on, what are we drinking?"

"Coffee," Jenson says. "I am craving some proper English tea."

He buys the drinks, it's really the least he can do, and then the floodgates open and he tells them all about his travels, Nico, the early morning talk at the beach, the final goodbyes. It feels good to get it all out, to talk it through, to get validation from people who are so important to him that he did the right thing, no matter how crappy he might feel about it right now. The tea tastes amazing and having his best friends with him feels even better, like being wrapped in a warm blanket.

Mark's phone beeps where it's sat on the table between them and he picks it up. "It's Seb, he's just going through security, I'll tell him where we are."

Jenson drains the rest of his tea. "You can just drop me off in Oxford," he says. "Or wherever's easiest. If you get me towards civilisation I can make my own way."

"You're coming with us," Mark tells him matter of factly, not looking up from his phone.

"I'll be fine," Jenson assures him.

Mark puts his phone down and looks at him sternly. "You're coming with us. You said your dad's in Somerset, right? I'm not leaving you alone."

Jenson shakes his head. "I just want to log in to my sister's Netflix account and fall asleep to Brooklyn Nine-Nine."

"Not happening," Mark tells him. "We're crashing Christian and Adrian's, impromptu family party. You're family. If I have to kidnap you, you're coming."

Jenson can't help but smile and as much as he really does just want to curl up in his own bed, he's not going to turn down an offer like that.

Over Mark's shoulder he can see Sebastian approaching and he can't remember the last time he saw him. He has a big winter coat slung over one arm, a bag over the other, and a grin on his face. He smacks Mark on the arm without breaking stride and then heads straight for the doors leading outside.

"He's such an annoying little shit," Mark complains, collecting up his things. "Why did I drive all this way for him?"

"Because he is your brother," Fernando tells him. "And you know what it will mean to your parents."

"I should get a fucking medal," Mark mutters.

Outside Sebastian is stood smiling at the sky like some kind of crazy person. "I haven't seen daylight in over a week," he exclaims. "Look at the sun."

"Don't look at the sun," Mark tells him, grabbing him in a headlock that quickly turns into a hug.

"I need to go to uni on the way back and pick up my stuff," Sebastian says.

"I'm not your personal chauffer," Mark tells him. "Do it on your own time."

"I need my stuff," Sebastian insists. "Where's the car?"

Fernando reaches out to take Jenson's backpack from him as they walk across the carpark and Jenson wants to protest but he also really doesn't want to carry that fucking thing around anymore so he just offers Fernando a grateful smile. As they walk together, following the bickering pair of Mark and Sebastian, Jenson feels the contentment settling in.

"There's no place like home."


End file.
